Unexpected Windfall
by Rumour of an Alchemist
Summary: It's the day before the school year starts, and having crossed the wrong man, the Hogwarts headmaster suddenly discovers he has a staffing problem... ON HIATUS.
1. An Alchemist Calls

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: The following takes place in an alternate universe from canon.

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><p><em>August 31st, 1975<em>

Albus Dumbledore returned to his office from a discussion with the house-elves about the menu for the Sorting Feast tomorrow night to find one of the most dreaded smirks in Europe plastered on the face of the man who was sprawled in a chair with his boots up on Albus Dumbledore's desk, and who appeared to be studying with interest a French muggle newspaper. He was a tall, wiry man, of indeterminate age, with tanned skin and iron grey hair, in a white short-sleeved cotton shirt (the collar button of which was undone) and dark grey pinstripe trousers held up by scarlet braces. Albus had not been expecting this visitor, but then again the high and mighty around the world seldom did. He simply showed up and with typical gallic arrogance expected people to take notice – although there _was_ some justification in his expectation.

"Nicolas." he sighed. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"

Albus' visitor folded his newspaper carefully, with the utmost precision, as if he had all the time in the world to do so – which he quite possibly _did_. It was only once this operation had been concluded to his complete satisfaction, that he put the paper aside, looked up at Albus, and ceased to smirk. The visitor's brown eyes were deadly serious now. The English, although spoken with more than a hint of a French accent, clearly enunciated.

"I heard approximately fourteen minutes ago that you were about to have a staffing problem, Albus. The roof caved in on one of your professors."

"Which one, Nicolas?"

"I'll wait for the person in question to floo-call you. It should be happening any minute now."

"Lemon drop?" Albus half-heartedly offered the bowl.

"Thank-you. I don't mind if I do."

Albus' visitor helped himself and proceeded to suck upon it with every sign of enjoyment.

Several minutes later, Albus received a floo-call.

He erected a privacy ward, at which his visitor snorted, and took a call which left him visibly and increasingly agitated. At length the call ended, Albus dropped the privacy ward, and glared at his former master. His onetime master responded by reaffixing his smirk.

"The roof, as you say, literally caved in on the person whom I had been relying upon to fill the defence position next year." Albus said, in as close to an irate accusatory tone as he dared to get with this particular visitor. "It caved in because it collapsed under the weight as the formerly lead sheets unexpectedly turned to pure gold. My intended defence professor, between concussion and this unexpected windfall, has just quit on me, before the term had even begun. Apparently this must have happened at about the same time as you say you became aware that I was about to 'have a staffing problem'. If I had to compile a list of suspects capable of transmuting a lead roof into pure gold, the name of Nicolas Flamel, Master Alchemist, would be somewhere close to the top." He paused and adopted an aggrieved tone of voice. "Might I enquire as to just why you have chosen to do this to me, Nicolas?"

"First, you interfered recently with a couple of friends of mine in the French Ministry, due to this silly problem you have with your little fake dark lord. You did this without consulting me." Nicolas Flamel began to tick the points off on his fingers. "That was most impolite. Second, you did not apologise for it, and your last Christmas card to me was three months late which was even more impolite, and which again you did not apologise for. Third and finally, I was bored, and Perenelle cautioned me against taking more amusing action which would have wound you up even more. Still, my main point is that you behaved like a boor, and gave yourself liberties to interfere in _my_ business, and so I feel that it is entirely reasonable to meddle right back. Since you are a member of staff down, with less than twenty four hours to fill the vacancy, I am prepared to step in and teach potions at your school this year. That will allow you to reorganise your staff and put someone else into the defence position on a contract up until the exams are over."

"And what if Horace Slughorn doesn't want to be moved out of potions for this year, so you can teach it?"

The Master Alchemist gave a short, barking, laugh.

"Horace Slughorn is a pragmatist. He will recognise just how tremendously damaging it would be to the school's reputation if it became known that you had declined my offer to instruct your pupils in potion-making for a year. I suspect he would even be pleased to step aside, for a year, to teach another subject if he believed it might ingratiate himself with me."

"Might I know as to precisely what end you intend to meddle in my school?" Albus asked.

"You might at some point, but since I have not yet entirely made up my own mind on a specific plan of action, we'll all just have to wait and see. You know me, Albus, mixing things up, just for the hell of it to see what happens…"

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><p>Author Notes:<p>

This chapter was originally written as a one-shot, but since there was some interest, additional chapters will follow occasionally. Except for maybe an epilogue it's unlikely to run past the end of school year September '75 to July '76.

Although Nicolas Flamel is apparently English in the Harry Potter canon, the historic figure originates on the continent, so I've taken the liberty of giving this Nicolas Flamel French origins. He's many centuries old, and feels entitled to _some_ sort of respect on account of his age and experience - especially from a former student, which for the purposes of this story I have assumed Albus to be. He really can't be bothered with traditional wizardly forms of dress. They're hardly the most practical of garments for laboratory work, for a start...

Update: Thanks to excessivelyperky for spotting should have been 'boor' not 'boar'. Have corrected that one.


	2. First Week of Term

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: The following takes place in an alternate universe from canon.

(Author Notes Updated 5th July, 2012)

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><p><em><span>September 1, 1975<span>_

The sorting of the new pupils had been done, and all eyes in the great hall of Hogwarts turned to the high-table, where the headmaster stood up.

"Due to a last minute change in circumstances involving the defence against the dark arts post, there are a number of alterations to who will be teaching what this coming year." the headmaster announced. "Not least of which is that my old mentor, Master Nicolas Flamel, will be teaching potions classes." A murmur went around the hall. "He requires that he be addressed as 'Master Flamel', not 'Professor Flamel', and he has requested that I make it clear that the only disciplines he will use for misbehaviour are additional essays and exclusions from his classes. He will not award detentions, and he will neither be taking nor awarding house-points, although he may offer students who impress him the opportunity to carry out extra studies with him, at weekends. Letters have been going out all day to notify parents and guardians of the last minute changes to staffing arrangements…"

The headmaster carried on with his announcements, but the attention of the pupils was fixed on the unfamiliar face at the high-table; even the majority of the pupils, who at this point had no idea who Nicholas Flamel was, were taken in by the deference obvious in the headmaster's tone when he referred to 'Master Flamel'.

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><p><em>September 5, 1975<em>

In the potions laboratory, it was the last class of the week, and fifth year potions, with Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"…if something is worth doing, it is worth taking the time to do it well…" Master Flamel was at the front of the classroom, writing and drawing with a stick of chalk on the blackboard, speaking regarding the preparation of ingredients.

The four inveterate Gryffindor pranksters who called themselves 'The Marauders' had occupied their usual positions at the back of the class, although that was to the disappointment of half their number, messieurs Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

"If he's six hundred years old, I would have thought he'd have learnt how to put things on a board with a wand by now." James Potter joked. Beside him, Peter Pettigrew sniggered.

Remus stared mournfully up the room to where fellow Gryffindor student, Lily Evans, was in prime position right at the front of the class, alongside the Slytherin student, Severus Snape. One of the Marauders' goals in life was to make the life of 'Snivellus' hell at Hogwarts. They and Severus had got off on the wrong foot with one another on the train to school on the first day of their lives at Hogwarts, and with the passage of the years the state of fierce house rivalry that generally existed between Gryffindors and Slytherins had only accentuated the mutual dislike engendered by that rocky start.

"Look at Snivellus up there, staring at him intently and desperate to write everything down, trying to be a teacher's pet." Pettigrew joked back.

"Oi, shut it you two." Sirius said. "Joke about Snivellus by all means, but do it _after_ class. I actually want to try and hear what Master Flamel has to say. This is a breath of fresh air after Slughorn, and it's clear he's interested in the subject for its own sake."

"What? Can Padfoot actually be suddenly interested in studying in potions?" James mocked. "Could it possibly be that…" He trailed off, suddenly aware that Master Flamel was standing right in front of him, having somehow silently made his way down the classroom with remarkable speed.

"Mr. Potter. You are a fifth year student. Unlike the first year Ravenclaw I threw out of a class yesterday, you should have learned some manners by now. Pack your things and get out of my classroom. You are excluded from my classes until Christmas. If I do not receive a satisfactory apology from you at that point, and additional evidence in the form of keeping up with the written side of the course, you will be excluded for the rest of the year."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's just that…" James began, attempting to deploy smooth-talking and the Potter charm.

"Mr. Potter. For a man who is over six centuries old, I have remarkably good hearing, and I also know a complete lack of contrition when I see it. Every second that you remain in this classroom is affecting what I will accept as a satisfactory apology. And Mr. Pettigrew: in addition to any other essays I set, you will turn in twelve inches on Paracelsus and his work, by the end of the month, and keep in mind, before you consider trying to make anything up to fill space, that I knew and corresponded with the man."

And then Master Flamel was heading back towards the front of the classroom, speaking as he went as if nothing extraordinary had just happened about the properties of hydrothermal sulphur.

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><p>The class eventually concluded with a practical not in brewing anything, but purely in preparing ingredients. Master Flamel toured the benches to inspect the results, making comments or issuing advice where he deemed fit, and then dismissed the class with three exceptions.<p>

"The rest of you may pack and go, but Misters Black and Snape, and Miss. Evans will pack but remain behind." Master Flamel instructed.

The others filed out, giving curious glances at the three required to stay back.

Master Flamel studied the students assembled waiting for him to say what he wanted.

"Miss. Evans and Mr. Snape, the skill and interest you have exhibited today is beyond merely adequate, and Mr. Black, your temperament interests me, not least because you were prepared to tell Mr. Potter to quieten down when, if I read the dynamics going on between you there at the back, he is usually the leader of a little clique that you have for yourselves. The three of you are invited to attend a practical here, tomorrow afternoon, at two o'clock. If you wish to come be no less than punctual, bring all equipment and text-books you have for the potion-brewing subject, and be prepared for a long, hard, afternoon and evening. I shall make arrangements for food for any of you who do turn up. That is all. You may go."

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><p><em>September 6,<em>_ 1975 _

Albus Dumbledore found Nicolas Flamel in his office immediately after breakfast.

"There's something you wish to discuss with me, I take it?" Albus said.

"Certainly." said Nicolas, helping himself to one of the headmaster's boiled sweets. "I am curious as to how the Potter boy's father has reacted? I assume his son owled him last night."

"I believe half Mr. Potter's dormitory was awakened by the howler his father sent back this morning." Albus said. "Mr. Potter senior did not take well to his son's attempts to get him to intervene with myself and the board to get him reinstated in your class. Had it been any other teacher, things might have been different, but Mr. Potter senior has a good deal of respect for your name and opinions."

"That is fortunate for the Potters." Nicolas said. "It has been a while since anyone attempted to threaten or arm-twist me, but I am seldom unprepared for the possibility."

"Why _did_ you throw him out, as matter of curiosity? And why not Pettigrew too, whom I gather was also being disruptive?"

"James Potter has no respect for anyone, having apparently had a privileged, pampered, upbringing and almost everything he ever wanted dropped into his lap by others. Excluding him might at least teach him the need to respect _me_. Peter Pettigrew appears to just follow the crowd, and excluding him would have put him in a crowd of two with Potter, bolstering Potter's ego in his not being completely isolated in his situation, and just leading to Peter following the opinion of Potter, and not actually thinking for himself. I'm curious to see if Peter can actually learn anything from being separated and treated differently from Potter." There was a lengthy pause, broken in the end by Nicolas. "Albus. You do remember my rule that since we're both responsible adults, I won't ever make suggestions to you on how you _could_ do your job unless you ask?"

"Yes Nicolas. And I'm sure that if I _were_ to ask, you'd give me a good deal to think about. However, I cannot afford distractions, right now, and would prefer to save availing myself of what I do not doubt will be your very forthright opinions until at least the end of this school year."

"As you wish." Nicolas shrugged, and got up from his chair.

Fawkes made a chirruping sound once the alchemist had left the office.

"Yes, we're both proud and stubborn interfering busybodies, Fawkes." the headmaster chuckled.

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><p>James Potter was struggling not to be sullen, but finding it obviously very difficult. For once, the world had not bent itself to his bidding. What was worse, he had appealed to his father to fix it, and his father had sent a wrathful howler which had made it quite clear to most of Gryffindor that if James Potter, his son and heir, had in some way given offence to Master Alchemist Nicolas Flamel, then he, James Potter, was going to have to face up to his responsibilities, and take whatever punishment Master Flamel assigned him like a man.<p>

Furthermore, his father would be calling at the school the subsequent day to confiscate 'a certain family heirloom', to help James keep his mind where it should be, on his studies.

The loss of the invisibility cloak was going to throw the Marauders on to having to rely purely on their experimental magical map for avoiding detection when wandering the castle to prank. Unfortunately, still being under development, the map was not yet quite reliable.

It was mid-morning now, and the Marauders had assembled in one of the castle's secret passages to plot in private.

"Are you sure you want to go this afternoon, Padfoot?" James asked.

"Someone has to go to keep an eye on Snivellus and make sure that Evans is safe." Sirius joked. "But, this will also be one in the eye for my mother – her no-good eldest son, managing to get private tuition with one of the greatest minds of the age. Even if it's just the one-off, it should be good for a gloat or two."

"I wish someone had told me he was so important." Peter moaned. "I ended up offending him too, and he set me an essay on one of his old friends, and I can't cheat it likely I normally would."

"I _did_ try to tell you about him after the Sorting Feast, and the next morning, and on Thursday night, _and_ at Friday lunchtime." Remus remonstrated mildly.

"Maybe we should get Peter a remembrall to help him recall stuff we tell him." Sirius said impishly.

"Or maybe he could just pay attention in the first place." Remus suggested.

"Alright, leaving Peter's attention lapse _alone_, what are we going to do about Snivellus? I don't like him getting to spend time with Evans, even if Sirius is there to chaperone him." James steered the conversation back towards the topic which he considered most urgent. "If this is just a one-off this afternoon, I guess I can live with it, but if Flamel starts making these regular events and inviting people from our year to them, we need to work out a way to make sure Snivellus doesn't get in if Evans does. You're a prefect, Moony. You could give him detentions to make sure he can't go to any more of Flamel's little talks, couldn't you?"

"Only if he'd done anything to break the school rules." Remus frowned, pursing his lips.

"Mere details, Moony." James waved a hand. "Getting Snivellus to break school rules should be child's play. We all know how quick he is to draw a wand on us, if we 'accidentally' send so much as a mere tripping jinx in his direction."

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><p>The afternoon and evening in the potions lab turned into one long exhausting session investigating the properties of the boil cure potion, different techniques to brew it, and what the ingredients did. The three fifth year students worked and experimented away under the watchful gaze of Master Flamel, and occasionally Professor Slughorn popped by, fascinated, to watch what was going on.<p>

At last Master Flamel brought the session to an end.

"I trust you have found this instructive." he said. "Clear up and then, since it is after curfew, Professor Slughorn here will escort you back to your quarters." He ran his gaze over the students. "_If_ you wish to engage in such a session again, I will require evidence of your capacity to think originally and express your opinions coherently. You have until dinner on Thursday to turn in an essay each. I will not dictate any length to these essays, but I have selected the general subject for each of you. The subject for you, Mr. Snape, if you wish to write the essay, is the fifteenth century wizard, politician, and war-leader, Alfonzo de Poitier, paying particular attention to his goals and alliances; the subject for you, Miss. Evans, is how _you_ would run the defence of Hogwarts if there were a goblin rebellion, the floos had been cut, the teaching staff absent, and a large army of goblins outside; and the subject for you, Mr. Black, is a study of the play _Romeo and Juliet_ by the muggle playwright William Shakespeare, of which there should be at least one copy in the Hogwarts library. If you wish to impress, you will refrain from trying to second-guess any opinions _I_ may have and concern yourself solely with your own actual opinions…"

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><p>Author Notes:<p>

As far as I know Alfonzo de Poitier does not exist in canon, and is someone I've invented for Severus Snape to be set an essay on.

Updates (5th July, 2012):

I see from one reviewer that there may have been a genuine historic figure called 'Alfonzo de Poitier'. For the record I picked 'de Poitier' because it sounded like a continental version of 'Potter' and Alfonzo because it struck me as a vaguely medieval/rennaissance name. (I believe I read somewhere that Lucrezia Borgia had a husband at one time named 'Alfonso'). Ah well...

Regarding the defence post, it seemed to me to be peripheral to what I wanted to write about, but since two reviewers have now commented on it, I have three possible theories for how Dumbledore fills the post:

1) Slughorn gets put in the job. Slughorn promptly 'subcontracts' it to a succession of aurors, curse-breakers, and other notables who owe him favours and effectively spends the year 'bunking off'.

2) Slughorn gets moved to charms and Flitwick (who in canon is champion dueller, if I recall correctly) takes defence for the year.

3) Dumbledore takes over the post for the year, and puts Slughorn in charge of the mountains of paperwork, schmoozing with the board of governors, and hobnobbing with politicians (and whatever else he does) that Dumbledore normally handles.

I haven't settled for certain on any one of these as what happens as of yet.


End file.
